* * *

CONDESCENSION.

"THROUGH STRESS OF WAR Baronet's Niece will ORDER a Gentleman's
HOUSEHOLD."--_The Times._

* * * * *

UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.

No. XXXIV.

(_From the Frau Professor TINTENKLECKS._)

ALL-MIGHTIEST KAISER,--With the humblest assurance of my everlasting
respect I desire to lay bare to you, since you are without doubt the
Father of your People, my inmost thoughts as to this terrible War in
which we have now for eighteen months been engaged. I have some right, I
think, for my husband is that same Professor Tintenklecks whose
_opusculum_ on "International Law in Relation to World Power" was
received with special favour by your Majesty, who summoned the beloved
writer to your Palace, and with your own gracious right hand were
pleased to beat him with some force on his back, saying that "this
Tintenklecks is a tremendous fellow, and there should be more such in the
world." How well I remember that evening--it was a year before the War--and
how in honour of the Professor we had a Poetry supper, at which each guest
recited some verses of praise, and at the end little Amalie Siegeltisch,
the daughter of our colleague, placed on the brows of the Professor
a laurel-wreath which, however, pricked his with-much-hair-unadorned
head, and had therefore, after a great deal of pleasant witticisms,
to be taken off.

So when the War at last broke out my husband and I were amongst the
loudest Hosannah-shouters and singers of true German patriotic songs,
for we believed then that the War would be a short one, and that after a
few great victories we should make a brilliant peace on our own terms,
having utterly smashed all our enemies and having taken England's
war-ships and her colonies for our own. "Long he cannot last," said my
Professor, speaking of the War. "The French are a degenerate race, and
we shall be in Paris in a month. The English are given up to games, and
their mercenary army--I have it on the highest authority--cannot for a
moment stand against our German heroes. The Russians are slow and
disorganised and useless for war. For me you need not be afraid, my
dear. In this war a man of my age will not be required." So he spoke;
and now where is he and what has become of him? He has lost a leg, his
right hand has been shot through, and he is in a hospital in Poland.
Shall I ever see him again, I wonder.

Well, we have had victories in